


The Légion Scoute

by RokiSmiles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Angst, Bisexual Jean Kirstein, Canon Divergence, Dancer Armin, Erwin Smith being a dad, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Jean is a writer, M/M, Multi, Performer Eren, Performer Mikasa, Performing Arts, Sad Ending, Terminal Illnesses, body guard Levi, writer Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RokiSmiles/pseuds/RokiSmiles
Summary: The Légion scoute, a notoriously intense nightclub in the underground city owned by war hero Erwin Smith and his husband Levi. Together, the two of them take in orphan’s and train them to be performers, giving them a purpose and a reason to keep moving forward.Jean Kirchstien, an inspiring writer from Trost, somehow manages to find himself deeply entangled in the inner workings of The Légion scoute... and head over heels in love with a petite blonde performer, known to the club patrons as “The Sea Gem”~A “Moulin Rouge” AU, with a couple of twists and turns~
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Bertolt Hoover, Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi/Erwin Smith, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. ...And then a Hungry Girl fell through my ceiling...

**Author's Note:**

> ~A few things to note about this AU~
> 
> Yeah, I did use google translate for the title, that’ll be the only French thing in this whole fic though, so I hope I can be forgiven.
> 
> I came up with this AU years ago, and have finally decided to write it- however, since there’s been a lot more world building since I first thought this up you’re gonna have to just go with me here on a couple of things. 
> 
> \- The Walls and Titans do still exist in this AU, however Titan shifters do not. Neither does Marley, it’s more like how we were originally led to believe- these are the only humans left. 
> 
> \- Shiganshina/Maria are still broken through, but it’s by mindless titans- they just managed to wear it down over the years, because as Armin said “these walls won’t hold forever” 
> 
> \- during the suicide mission to take back wall Maria (the one that led to Armin’s grandfathers death) Eren’s mouth somehow managed to get him in trouble with the wrong person, which lead to him, Mikasa, and Armin all being shoved into the underground city.

—————  
Year: 855  
—————

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn... is just to love and be loved in return.”

A beautiful phrase. First spoken to Jean by his best friend, Marco, with a grin and a knowing look in his eye. 

Had he known how impactful that phrase was? What it would come to mean to Jean in only a year's time?...

Yes, he had to of... maybe he hadn’t known the context, but Marco had known what that those words would end up sticking with Jean for the rest of his life. 

Jean sighed shakily, staring at the phrase, watching it dry on the parchment where he had just written it. His chest swelling with every type of emotion known to man.

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love and be loved in return.” 

Jean took a deep breath, willing his body to stop shaking. 

He had a story to write.

—————  
Year: 854  
—————

It had been nine long years since wall Maria had fallen. 

That day in 845 had been a horrid one- there had been thousands of casualties, and the survivors had been forced to flee behind wall Rose- resulting in famine and loss of work for many. 

The Kirchstien’s were one of the families affected by this. His mother, who had made a living baking goods out of their home had quickly found the ingredients scarce- and when she did manage to find them in the markets, the prices had been inflated so much that she couldn’t justify the cost. 

Jean, in an effort to help his mother out, and offered to join the military. Families with military members in them were supposed to receive rations once a month- it would be just enough to keep his mother from starving. 

However, when he had approached his mother with this idea, she had burst into tears. Begging him not to go, vowing to find another job to keep her only son out of the clutches of the military. 

After weeks of fighting, Jean finally gave up. His mother ended up taking a job in the interior, moving herself and Jean inside of wall Seena and onto the land of some noble family who she cooked and cleaned for. 

When Jean was old enough, he too began to work for the noble family as a stable hand. It paid well, and between his and his mother's paychecks, they live fairly comfortable lives. 

During his time with the noble family, Jean had discovered a passion for writing. Stories, poetry, songs- you name it, and Jean could and would write it. He lived to write, and for his writing to be read... luckily for him, the noble man’s wife often found herself bored with life and, upon finding some of Jean’s work while rummaging through their at-home library, had begun insisting that he performed his work for her. 

Ah yes, Jean certainly looked back fondly on the memories of whispering saucy love poems heatedly in the noble woman’s ear as he untied her corset and she pressed her self flush against him- giggling like a schoolgirl. 

Their little affair truly had been... something... and it had lasted almost an entire year... until the noble couple allowed their ancient butler to retire, and hired a young redhead with a killer jawline and eyes so green Jean couldn’t believe they were real. 

He’ll admit, being cast away like old garbage for someone shiny and new had stung a bit... not because he loved her- no, it was more of a pride thing. 

Luckily for Jean, however, love poems didn’t just work on noblewomen. 

In a mere two weeks, Jean had found those brilliant green eyes staring wide-eyed up at him from a flushed face while pressed up against a wall behind the stables. Grasping at Jean’s shirt desperately, trying his best to stifle his moans.

His smug grin didn’t falter until he got home, where his mother hit him on the back of his head and loudly exclaimed “If you’re going to sleep around with the staff, could you please at least wait until I’m done training them?”

When Jean turned 18 and had made his way through almost every member of the noble family's staff, he asked for a year-long leave to pursue his passion for writing. The noblemen, a fair and kind man, had granted it to him almost immediately- stating that he had read some of his work and wished him luck. 

Now feeling slightly bad for sleeping with his boss's wife, Jean hugged his mother goodbye. With only a bag of clothes in hand and a few month's worths of savings in a bundle, he headed back to his hometown of Trost determined to make a name for himself. 

It didn’t take long for the brunette to find a place to stay. In fact, on his first try, the owner of the housing complex had recognized him immediately as Anna Kirchstien’s son and showed him where he’d be staying- making him promise to bring back a bowl of his mother’s vegetable stew next to he visited. 

Mind reeling with how smoothly things had gone, Jean settled himself down on the cheap bed shoved into the corner of the room. Excitement beginning to well up. 

Over the years, Trost had become the epicenter of the arts. Painters, musicians, writers, performers, had begun to pop up all over his hometown- people that believed that there was more to life than fear, work, and politics...

Yes, Jean had given up a well-paying job come back to Trost and live a penniless existence... writing plays, poetry, and songs about anything and everything... truth, life, and yes... even love. 

Despite Jean’s Serial romantic tendencies back on the noblemen’s land, he was actually a romantic at heart.

No, really, Jean Kirchstien loved love... even if he refused to say it aloud. 

Love made him feel like there was a reason to keep moving. Like there was a reason he was born into this world... 

Love truly was a splendid thing... it’s why it was so often the subject his writings. 

Yes, Jean truly did have an obsession with the emotion... he craved it in every form. His mother's love, despite how he may have outwardly acted, helped him to thrive in a world so cruel and unforgiving... the love of his friends he had made with the other staff that helped him get through bad days at work... the physical love and passion he felt when he was intimate with the people who he’d managed to court... he was addicted to that feeling of warmth and completion. 

Shaking his head, Jean pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, inspiration for a poem striking him. 

He had only gotten to the second stanza when a girl with a mouthful of potato fell through his roof. 

Before Jean could even react, a guy with a face full of freckles dressed like one of those wall worshippers burst through his door. 

“I’m terribly sorry about all of this-“ the freckled boy started nervously, walking towards the girl in the middle of Jean’s living room still chowing down on the food in her mouth. “This is an older building- and Sasha can’t really control herself around food, so when she jumped from the top of our set she must have landed on a weak spot- I told Connie to wait to bring the food in for a reason-“

Jean could only stare open-mouthed and blinking, the inky from his quill dripping onto the floor. 

“A-a... a set?...”

“Yes- For our play- “Spectacular! Spectacular!” The man grinned, hoisting the girl, Sasha, up by her shoulders and pulling her towards the door. “It’s set in Stohess.” 

“A play?” Jean felt dazed.

Before the freckled boy could answer, a guy with short grey hair and a girl with long platinum blonde hair peaked through the hole in Jean’s ceiling. 

“Is she okay?” The blonde asked, her cute face full of concern. 

“She fine, Krista.” The grey-haired man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Look at her- she’s still attacking that potato like a rabid ani- oh-“

No sooner had the words left the stranger's mouth did Sasha collapse unconsciously against the freckled man’s chest. 

“Well great, now Potato girls out for the night- now we can’t present to the investor tomorrow.” Came a woman’s voice from somewhere up above, her tone irritated. 

Jean had no idea what was going on anymore. 

“Ymir- she could be hurt- now isn’t the time to be worried about the show!” Krista exclaimed hotly, face flushing pink with anger as she pushed herself up and out to view, presumably to continue yelling at the owner of the irritated voice.

“Marco, as much as I don’t want to admit it- Ymir’s right, she still needs to finish the music... and without Sasha to do her part-“ started the grey-haired man, still peering down at the from the hole. 

“- We just need someone to read the part tonight, Sasha knows her lines,” Marco interjected, hoisting Sasha up bridal style and heading towards Jean’s door. 

“And where are we going to get someone to read the part of the young, sensitive, poet on such short notice?” The irritated woman called from above, sounding even more irritated than before. 

“Um... I could do it?...” Jean suggested, running a hand through his hair. 

These were the people he had come back to Trost to meet. The weird, eccentric souls of entertainers. They had been all he had ever hoped for. 

The freckled man, Marco, Jean thinks, stared at him for a moment before looking up at the man still staring at him through the hole. “What do you think, Connie?”

Connie looks Jean over for a moment, before shrugging. 

“Sure? Why not?”

————

Once upstairs, Jean was handed a script by Marco, who it turns out was the play write, and told him to read his part over to get in character while the owner of the irritated voice, Ymir, haphazardly boarded up the hole Sasha had created. 

After studying his character for a bit, Jean was instructed by Connie to stand near a rough drawing of a mountain and wait for his cue. 

It didn’t take Jean long to realize that there was something off with “Spectacular! Spectacular!”

The little story they had was quite good in Jean opinion, Marco was certainly a talented writer- Krista’s acting, Connie’s set pieces, and Ymir’s music were good as well... however, the song lyrics were... something else.

“The hills animate... With the euphonious symphonies of descant...” Krista’s otherwise melodic voice came out choppy and unnatural, the words contrasting greatly with Ymir’s flowing instrumental. 

Jean winced, and he wasn’t the only one. In fact, Everyone in the room seemed to have hated it. 

“Why did it have to be a musical?” Marco groaned, head resting against his desk. Connie patted his back sympathetically. 

“How about, "The hills are vital intoning the descant"?” Suggested Krista, though she didn’t sound too confident in her suggestion. 

“The hills quake and shake..."

“The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies"!

“The hills... The hills...”

As the four continued to bounce ideas off one another, Jean’s own idea suddenly began to form. 

“How about, “The hills are alive with the sound of music”?”

Silence. 

“Brilliant” Marco suddenly breathed, a grin lighting up his face. “Absolutely brilliant- now, can you sing it?”

Jean nodded, listening to Ymir’s melody before beginning to sing. Drinking in the looks of admiration he was receiving from the rooms patrons. 

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Krista gushes, grabbing excitedly onto Ymir’s arm. “Do you have more?”

“Sure.” Jean grins, clearing his throat before continuing.

“The hills... are alive... with the sound of music... with songs they have sung... for a thousand years...”

“Marco... you two should write the show together...” Sasha mumbled groggily from the bed in the corner of the room. 

“Yes!-“ Marco grinned, looking at Jean hopefully. “Please- uh...”

“Jean.” Jean laughs, excitement coursing through his body at rapid speed. “And of course.”

Jean was truly amazed at how splendidly everything was working itself out today. 

“Marco, you know Levi will never agree- I mean, have you ever written anything like this before?” Ymir asked arms crossed defiantly. Krista elbows her in the gut, but Ymir barely pays it any mind. 

“Who cares?” Krista asks her, “he’s clearly got the talent- besides, Levi doesn’t have the final say, Erwin does.” 

“Then how will we convince Erwin?” Ymir reiterates eyes narrowed at Jean. “He’s very particular about his talent... especially right now.” 

“Armin!” Marco suddenly exclaims, eyes alight with happiness. “We’ll pass Jean off as a famous writer, you know how much Armin loves reading- he’d be obsessed with his writing- and he’d insist to Erwin that he has to be hired. You all know Armin’s favorite if anyone can convince Erwin to pick up “Spectacular! Spectacular! It’d be him.” 

Jean noticed how the small group's moods began to lift, even Ymir cracked a smile- whoever this Armin guy was, he must really be the key. 

“Yes, I’ll write Eren now- tell him we need to set up a private meeting with Armin later tonight.” Krista nodded giddily, grasping Ymir by the wrist and yanking her towards the door. “We’ll meet you by the entrance to the underground then!” 

“Wait- the underground?-“ Jean asked, whirling around to look at the three remaining members of the group. 

“Mhm. “The Légion Scoute”... it’s notorious among those of us wanting to get into the entertainment business... and surprisingly exclusive.” Connie explained, stretching. “All the creatives around here want to be apart of it.” 

“Huh...” 

This was the first Jean had ever heard of “The Légion Scoute” when Jean thought of the underground city all that usually came to mind was a hell hole full of the poor, sick and unruly... to think that some exclusive secret nightclub for the rich also resided down there was... interesting. Jean truly didn’t know what to make of it. 

“...and you're sure if I audition for this... Armin?... that they’ll want to perform “Spectacular! Spectacular!”?...” Jean asked, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Definitely.” Marco grinned, determination shining in his eyes. Over his shoulder, he could see Sasha and Connie nodding in agreement. 

“Well, It’s settled then.” Jean grinned, laughing a little as Connie and Sasha cheered, shoving a glass of some sort of alcoholic beverage into Jean’s hands. 

Jean had a feeling he was in for a wild ride.


	2. Shining Sea Glass

Unnerving. 

That was the only word that came to mind as Jean was pulled down one of the dirt-packed roads of the underground city. He looked around in astonishment, hazel eyes wide as he passed miserable, sickly people, slumped against buildings, lying in the streets unable to walk- it was horrible. 

“Be careful,” Marco mutters under his breath, leading Jean around a corner, eyes shifting around nervously. “People down here don’t have anything to lose.” 

Jean swallows nervously, understanding immediately what Marco meant. He runs a hand through his long hair nervously, watching as Ymir pokes her head around a corner of a dark alleyway- Krista shoved protectively behind her as she gripped the dagger in her hand so tightly her knuckles were beginning to whiten. 

A few moments passed. Jean watches as Ymir glances behind to look at Sasha, who had her shoulders squared and her eyes narrowed in concentration. Eventually, Sasha relaxes a little and nods towards Ymir, who leads the group down the alleyway. 

Weird. 

This strange routine between Sasha and Ymir repeats itself every time they come across a particularly dark nook or cranny. Every time Jean tries to ask about it, he’s shushed- which annoys him immensely. 

Eventually, their small party arrives at what looks to be a much older and worn version of the apartment building they all currently live in. The wood was visibly rotting, reinforced by what looked like wood from dismantled carts and storage crates. Some of the stone towards the top was beginning to crumble, and the small flight of stairs they had to walk up to get to the entrance looked as if they’d disintegrate beneath their feet. 

This is seriously what they had been raving about? This is the place “all the creatives in Trost” were so desperate to be apart of?

“I know it doesn’t look like much.” Marco suddenly says, placing a hand on Jean’s shoulder. Jean honesty wonders if he has the ability to read minds. “But just wait until we get inside- you’ll see.” 

“Alright.” Jean nods, hesitantly following the others up the crumbling staircase. It takes a moment, but Jean begins to notice that some of the more iffy looking stairs had been... patched? (Jean didn’t know if that was the best way to describe it, honestly) with the strange glowing rocks that littered the ceiling and walls of the underground city- it was almost pretty. 

After reaching the top, they all stopped, crowded together on a small porch in front of a standard wooden door. Jean bites his lip, suddenly overcome with a sense of nervousness as the silence blankets the group of, from what Jean could tell, usually very loud people. 

Jean jumps a little when he notices a pair of blue-ish green eyes staring at them through a slot in the door. How long had?... 

“This better to have loved and lost...” the owner of the eyes, a girl from what Jean could tell, starts. Her eyes darting around, surfing each member of their group with a fierce intensity. 

Jean pulls at the collar of his shirt nervously. 

“...then never to have loved at all.” Krista finishes, smiling prettily at the lively eyes. They seem to light up happily at her, before disappearing. 

“Uh?...” Jean wonders, but there’s no need for anyone to answer, as the wooden door suddenly flings open. The owner of the eyes, a spunky looking woman with messy red hair pulled into a loose ponytail, holds it open. She bows as they walk past, giggling a little at a man with dirty blonde hair and a mature air around him. 

What had he gotten himself into? 

Jean looks around, noticing that they were in a small wooden room. Similarly to the reinforcements outside, it looks as if it were made out of dismantled carts and crates. Hooks and shelves line almost every wall, filled to the brim with coats, hats, and anything else people didn’t want to bring with them. 

Jean slowly begins to slide his own coat off, watching as the others do the same before handing them over to the blonde man they’d passed when they walked in. He gives Jean a soft smile, before handing him a strip of parchment with the number “122” on it. 

“Don’t lose that, I can’t give you your coat back if you do.” The man says, sliding another strip of parchment into the breast pocket of Jean’s coat, Jean notices it has “122” written on it as well.

“Alright, thank you.” Jean nods, tucking the number somewhere safe. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Ymir place her dagger (also with a number on it) into a crate filled to the brim with a multitude of other weapons. 

Jean raises his eyebrows at her, she stares him down angrily. 

“Turn out your pockets.” The man demands calmly, catching Jean off guard. He stares at him for a moment, before he hears the sound of shuffling behind him- indicating that everyone else was complying with the orders. 

Jean sighs, and does the same. 

Why was this such a serious thing? 

The man, starting with Connie, begins to expect them one by one. Looking at the contents of their pockets, before patting them down. Jean gives Marco a “why didn’t you warn me about this?” Look, which is only answered with an apologetic shrug. 

It’s only then while waiting for his turn to be frisked, does Jean finally notice the music. 

He feels his eyes widen, his head turning towards a door that would take them further inward. How he hadn’t noticed before, he has no idea- but now, he could hear it. Music so loud that it was making the floor vibrate. 

But that wasn’t the only astonishing thing- no, inside he could also hear people. Cheering, laughing, singing- people were enjoying themselves in there. 

Jean is the last one to be searched. When the blonde comes back up empty-handed, he gives the group a quick nod before pulling a key from around his neck. Jean watches with bated breath, suddenly desperate to get inside, as the key is put in the hole and turned- opening the door with a click. 

It’s like an explosion. 

When the door opens, the sound is almost deafening and the light so bright compared to the permanently dark underground city. Marco once again has to guide him inside. 

Jean knows he’s gaping. He can feel his mouth dropping and his eyes bugging as he takes in The Légion Scoute. It’s breathtaking.

From what Jean can tell, the entire apartment unit had been gutted, leaving only the giant three-story frame. 

Where Jean assumes the floors used to be, there are catwalks and platforms for people to walk around on. The entire thing was illuminated by large metal chandeliers housing the glowing rocks Jean had noticed on the stairs earlier, bathing everything in a striking greenish-blue light. 

From what Jean could tell, they seemed to be on the second floor, as stairs leading downwards would take them to a large open area that spanned the length of the entire unit. On one side of this open area, people were seated around tables. Laughing, drinking, and pulling what Jean assumes are servers into their laps. On the other side, a group of people dressed in outfits Jean had never seen before was also dancing as Jean had never seen before. 

They were hypnotic. Their bodies swinging together in unison to the beat of the music, their outfits bursting with color every time they span together as one... Jean was awestruck. 

Above the dancers, on one of the platforms, three women were singing. They swayed with the music as they sang, spinning when the dancers below. The woman in the middle, the clear focus of the group, caught Jean’s attention immediately. Her short, jet black hair, strange (but beautiful) facial features, and the red scarf wrapped around her neck and strong voice made her impossible to ignore. 

“Woah...” Jean finally breathed, finally able to form words. Behind him, he could hear Connie cackle. 

“Krista went to go find Eren,” Marco says, grabbing Jean. “Let’s find somewhere to sit downstairs while we wait.”

Jean nods absentmindedly, never taking his eyes off the peculiarly beautiful ravenette. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t have a chance,” Marco states, rolling his eyes. Beside him, Connie pats Jean’s back and nods at him sympathetically.

“W-what?”

“Mikasa, the girl with the scarf? You don’t have a chance with her. So don’t even think about it.” 

Jean huffs, thinking about all of his past romantic endeavors. “You guys just met me a couple of hours ago- you don’t have any idea whether or not I-“ 

“Trust me, we do.” Connie cuts him off, narrowly avoiding a very drunk patron stumbling his way up to the second floor. “She’s already taken.” 

Jean thinks back to the noblewoman, and a slight pang of guilt strikes through his heart at the thought of her husband's kindness.

Jean pouts. “Fine.”

“Good boy.” Connie coos, patting Jean’s head like a dog as they sit down at a table. Jean scrunches his nose and pushes it off lightly while Sasha proceeds to order the entire menu. 

“So...” Jean starts, his eyes drifting back to Mikasa as they begin another song. “How does this place have food?... isn’t starvation one of the leading causes of death down here?”

“It was.” Marco shrugs, ordering something himself. “But Erwin still has friends in the military, and like I said- the rich frequent here, so they call in favors from their government friends so they can keep this place up in running.” 

Jean nods in understanding but doesn’t order- feeling weird about the whole thing. “So, is that why we were checked so thoroughly? Because there are nobles here?”

“Yep,” Connie confirms after giving his own order to the waitress. “Can’t have any noble family or high ranking military officials murdered down here... it’d bring up way to many questions and the whole thing would be shut down.” 

Jean nods absentmindedly, watching some of the dancers from earlier reach into the crowd and bring a partner onto the dance floor to dance with them. Suddenly, they begin to part- and Jean find his eyes following two very tall figures, emerging from the mass of dancing bodies. The two men, one a tall blonde that Jean is almost certain is missing an arm, the other a sweaty and nervous looking brunette, make their way to a table only a couple of feet away from where Jean and his group were currently sitting. 

Immediately, the two of them begin to talk. The brunette’s eyes shift around the room anxiously as he dabs his forehead with a handkerchief- the blonde has a fierce expression... almost as if he were negotiating a deal. 

Huh. 

Jean turns, about to ask if his newfound friends knew anything about the two men- but before he could even get a word out, Krista comes bounding out of nowhere dragging a mildly amused Ymir behind her. 

“Eren says that-“ The petite girl's chest heaves and she leans heavily against the table, Ymir pats her on the back as she tries to regain her breath- But before she’s able too, the room goes dark. 

Jean looks up confused, barely able to make out what seems to be a metal covering that seems to have been placed on top of the glowing chandeliers. 

The entire room is silent, a sharp contrast to the booming noise Jean had only recently become accustomed too. It feels like the entire room is holding their breath. 

Suddenly, small flakes of those glowing rocks begin to drift down from the ceiling. Jean watches, attracted to the only source of light in the room. More and more flakes fall, Jean notices that they land in the center of a circle made of excited patrons. 

One of the chandeliers is uncovered, creating a hauntingly beautiful spotlight. A small, blonde man (that honestly looks a lot like Krista) sits on a swing made out of ODM gear and recycled wood, his blue eyes seem to glow as he looks around the captivated room.

Jean’s mouth is dry, he really wishes he’d ordered himself something to drink. He takes in the petite males appearance- like most of the staff here, he’s wearing clothing Jean had never seen before- or at least, the style was completely foreign. 

Even though the blonde was clearly a tiny little thing, the shorts he was wearing made his legs look long. They stopped mid-thigh, and the dark grey complimented his pale skin greatly. He also wore a button-up shirt, but the sleeves were short- the black vest and elbow-length gloves seemed to glitter in the light and the weird black netting that seemed to encase his legs disappeared past his knee-high boots and shorts both confused and intrigued Jean greatly. 

He’s almost certain that he’s forgotten how to breathe. 

“That’s him,” Connie whispers in Jean’s ear, making the brunette jump. “Shining Sea Glass~... Armin.”

“W-what-“ Jean coughs, his face feels hot, his eyes never leaving Armin’s face. “What’s sea glass?”

“No idea.” 

“Some are happy to die for love~...” 

Jean feels his eyes widen as Armin’s hauntingly beautiful voice rings throughout the silence. 

“They delight in fighting duels~...”

Jean swallows, pulling nervously at his collar again. How the hell was he supposed to talk to him? 

“...but I prefer a man who leaves~...”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jean spots the sweaty brunette. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head, the handkerchief in his hands now held tightly against his chest. 

“...and gives expensive~...” Armin leans back, Jean hears people begin to cheer and whistle. “...jewels~”

And then suddenly, the music’s fast and the swing Armin is on is moving, doing large circles over the crowd, getting lower and lower until he’s in the center of the loudly cheering crowd. He swings back and forth giddily, beginning to sing again. “A kiss on the hand might be quite by quite continental, but diamonds are a guy's best friend~” 

Jean hears the sweaty man take a deep breath, relaxing a little as he dabs his forehead. 

Armin’s off the swing, now walking through the crowd of people, waving and blowing kisses. Jean notices that they seem to be holding money out to him, which confuses him immensely. 

A few men grab at the small blonde, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. Continuing to sing and play his part, seemingly enjoying all the attention. Jean watches it all curiously, wondering if he should get closer.

Suddenly, Armin’s lifted up onto the shoulders of two other performers. A man from the crowd, so nicely dressed that he had to be a nobleman, is also lifted into the air. When they meet, Jean watches with eyes as large as saucers, the man put a diamond necklace into Armin’s outstretched hand. 

“- But square-cut or pear-shaped, These rocks don’t lose their shape!~” 

“Jean,” Krista starts, having to yell a little to be heard over the crowd. “I was trying to tell you earlier that Eren arranged for you to meet Armin after this number- just you and him.” 

Jean blinks. “Wait- why only me?-“

“Because you’re the writer!” Ymir yells over Krista’s shoulder, Jean doesn’t feel like fighting it. 

Armin’s being lifted into the air again, they carry him towards the platform where Mikasa and the other two girls had been performing. He isn’t the only one there, though. 

“Wait-“ Jean mumbles, looking from the platform over to where the sweaty man had been sitting with the one-armed blonde- the blonde one was no longer there, instead of joining Armin on the platform. “But how- when did he?-“

“Talk to me Erwin, tell me all about it!” Armin exclaims, standing at the edge of the platform. 

Jean feels like his head is going to explode- that’s Erwin Smith? The one-armed man currently holding a diamond bracelet over Armin’s head, that had been talking to a walking pool of sweat for the past 15 minutes, was Erwin Smith?

Jean is suddenly pulled out of thoughts by a loud crash. He jumps, looking over at the tall brunette, who was now standing with four different drinks running down his shirt. Marco and Krista quickly jump up to help, using the man’s handkerchief to wipe down the front of his shirt while Armin continues to sing while circling Erwin in the background. 

This was insanity. 

Jean loves it, it was exactly what he had been looking for. He can feel it in his bones. 

He’s pulled out his thoughts by Marco blocking his line of the sight by reaching over him to grab more napkins, the man’s ruined handkerchief waving in Jean’s face. “Hey-“

“I’m sorry-“ Marco says, before moving to head back to the mess. 

Jean shakes his head, his eyes drifting back to the stage, where Armin and Erwin are beginning to be blocked from view by the skirts of some of the female dancers. Connie tries wolf whistle, only to be outdone by Ymir a few seconds later. 

Jean cheers with the crowd when Armin and Erwin appear again, their outfits changed. Erwin was now dressed in a dapper white suit, while Armin’s ditched the vest and netting and exchanged his shorts, gloves, shirt, and boots out for solid white counterparts, and draped a long white cloak over his narrow shoulders- the diamond necklace and bracelet he’d been given were also being worn now, sparkling beautifully in the light. 

He looks like an angel. Jean’s having trouble breathing again.

Armin’s being carried again, his singing getting more dramatic as the song reaches its climax. 

It takes a moment for Jean to realize Armin’s been let down in front of him. 

He blinks, staring at the diamonds around Armin’s neck, before darting his eyes up to the blondes. The room begins to get brighter as the metal covers are removed from all the chandeliers above them, allow Jean to really look at the small male in front of him. 

He gulps. He’s even better up close. 

“I believe that you’ve been expecting me?” Armin asks, smiling brightly, his blue eyes sparkling. 

Jean opens his mouth to speak, but can’t get the words to come out. Armin giggles, which causes Jean to blush.

“I um- yes-“ Jean manages to choke out, nodding. 

Armin smiles, turning towards the crowd and throwing his arms out. “I believe it’s my choice tonight, boys!” 

The crowd cheers in response, and before Jean can even register what’s happening, he’s being yanked up and pulled towards the dance floor. 

The dancing is a whirlwind. He and Armin circle around one another, his cloak fluttering behind him prettily. At some point, Armin almost gives him a heart attack, pressing his small body up against his chest and running his hands down his body and popping back up once he’s reached his shins. 

Jean catches sight of a brunette man with his hair pulled back into a bun and eyes the same striking green as the woman who had let them inside, he’s the one on the platform now, singing the fast-paced song they were currently all dancing to. 

Jean jumps when Armin wraps his arms around his neck and instinctually wraps his arms around the petite blondes' tiny waist, flushing at their closeness.

“So, I hear you’re interested in our little show.” Armin starts, smiling as he spins, slightly out of breath.

Jean smiles back, a little overwhelmed. “Oh yeah, I’d love to be involved.”

Armin’s eyebrows raise, and he actually looks a little... surprised? Jean shrugs it off. “Really?”

Jean nods. “Yes, this is all-“ he gestures around the room. “-really exciting, I’ve never seen anything like it before- of course, this is all assuming you like what I do.”

“I’m sure I will.” The blonde still looks surprised, Jean wonder why. 

“So um-“ The taller male spins the blonde, “Krista- Krista said we could do it somewhere private-“ 

Armin pauses, he looks at Jean exasperated. “Did... haha- did she now?” 

Jean nods, a little confused at his reaction. “Yeah, a-“ he dips Armin, pulling him back up so that he’s flush against his chest “-private poetry reading.” 

“Oh...” Armin’s eyes seem to light up in realization, Jean dips him again. “A poetry reading.”

The brunette nods, nervous now that their faces were only a few inches apart as they span. 

Armin laughs. “Oh, I love a little poetry after supper~” he taps Jean lightly on the chest, before walking off. Jean goes to call out and ask where he’s going when he notices that the swing from earlier had been lowered back down into the center of the dance floor. 

Ah. 

Armin climbs onto it, standing instead of sitting this time. It slowly begins to raise, Armin singing the last line of his song once more. 

“Diamonds~... are a guy’s~” he catches Jean’s eye and blows him a kiss- Jean flushes. “Best- Ah-“

Jean feels his blood run cold. The little, pained squeak he’d made while breathing in to prepare for the last note had been horrified. The already pale blonde seemed to somehow lose more color, staring scarily still- nobody moved, nobody breathed. 

And then, Armin fell.


End file.
